


lost in the dawning of spring

by spookysp_ace (summermoonsdawn)



Series: osaaka week 2020 [3]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe - Royalty, Kingdoms, Kissing, M/M, Osamu loves him. so much, Prince!Akaashi, Secret Relationship, background KuroSemi, slight angst, the answer is no, will i ever not use a ton of metaphors?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-15
Updated: 2020-09-15
Packaged: 2021-03-07 02:21:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,510
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26479390
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/summermoonsdawn/pseuds/spookysp_ace
Summary: osaaka day 3 || royalty || tier 3 quote ||-Being the dawn of spring meant you were unattainable, untouchable–unreachable. And because Osamu was nothing except gluttonous for the intangible, he fell in love with the dawn of spring.He was in love with Akaashi Keiji, prince of Fukurodani.
Relationships: Akaashi Keiji/Miya Osamu
Series: osaaka week 2020 [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1922587
Comments: 6
Kudos: 67
Collections: Osaaka Week 2020





	lost in the dawning of spring

**Author's Note:**

> first: thank you to those who have commented on my other pieces??? <3 you're all gems, and so sweet. i swear i'll get back to them after osaaka week is finished <3
> 
> .... you guys, i... have no idea what happened with this piece. i suddenly, like in the middle of working on day 3 decided i wanted to do something completely fucking different. so here we are. 
> 
> PLEASE, listen to [Dawning of Spring](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=egvOt9CjIGU) either before or during reading. _PLEASE_ that's the only thing i ask.
> 
> please enjoy :"))

_Sweetheart, you know how to love me_

_The way I like to be loved_

  
  


* * *

The ones who didn’t know the prince would say he was cold. That he was born in the frigid courts of the north. They would say as he walked the halls of the Fukurodani palace that his fine leather boots would cast frost along his path. They would say he was refined and sharpened by the edges of inner court politics–that he would have to be, if he were to be ruling a kingdom amongst nations like Shiratorizawa and Itachiyama.

Those were the words of the same nobles in the inner court who’d only spoken to their prince on account of those same politics.

Akaashi Keiji was not cold.

He was reserved in the right company–strange if you listened to his words close enough; eccentric if you watched his movement like lovers dancing on a stage.

Osamu–the lover.

Akaashi Keiji–the dance.

Osamu isn’t even quite sure what that means, but sometimes the prince will read snippets from his current novel to him, and he wants to drown in the sound of Akaashi’s voice saying _like lovers dancing on a stange, they were sunlight cusped by the clouds; hidden from creation in their secret summer._

Akaashi was the dawn of spring. He was the prince of Fukurodani–with knights and guards at his very fingertips (fingertips meant to hold brushes of ink but fingertips that could hold daggers and make fighting look like a delicacy). He was the prince of Fukurodani, and his friends–Konoha and Shirofuku usually–would call him _bizarre_ but hold bright smiles on their faces.

Being the dawn of spring meant you were unattainable, untouchable–unreachable. And because Osamu was nothing except gluttonous for the intangible, he fell in love with the dawn of spring.

He was in love with Akaashi Keiji, prince of Fukurodani.

He is in love with the prince.

And Osamu–

“Osamu?” the prince called from nearby.

–is the son of the royal cook.

Above him, through pink blossoms, the prince was perched in a tree. He peered down at Osamu. Amongst the weeping branches of the yoshino tree, with the breeze winding from the near coast, he made for a picture that Osamu wished the court painter could be here to see. Around this one old tree, there were other yoshino trees in the field. Sweet alyssums in their lavenders, violets, and whites grew wildly there, in heeps, overtaking any of the flowers that could wish to grow. 

The prince’s andalusian horse, dappled in whites on it’s grey coat, was wandering the field, munching on the sparse grass it could find. Under the order from the queen for Osamu to find Akaashi, the stablehand had no issue in lending him the horse he always took to find Akaashi–a black friesian that Akaashi frequently said reminded himself of Osamu.

With a pat at its rear, the horse trotted into the field after the prince’s.

“My prince,” Osamu sighed. He blinked past the rays of the sun so Akaashi could hold his complete attention. 

“Osamu,” the prince said again, affection overwhelming his tone, with something inviting in his eyes. 

“Keiji,” he breathed.

With a shining smile, Keiji–the dance of Osamu’s love–closed his book. He lifted himself from where he’d been sagging (the queen would die if she knew he was _sagging)_ against the trunk of the tree. He was only wearing a dark pair of trousers and a billowy white top–the collar ruffled and his sleeves wrinkled. His crown was nowhere in sight. Osamu took a glance around the field and noted Keiji’s navy coat at the bottom of the tree trunk. It’s golden embellishments in the fabric shined in the same way Keiji’s smile did.

“Lose yer clothes on the way up, ‘Ji?” 

The field, tucked closer to the coastline, was a decent horse ride away from the palace and it’s stonewalls–here, Osamu let his heart flood and feel, let it whoosh like the coastal waves.

Keiji scoffed. “You can wear it, if you don’t like it on the ground.”

“That coats’ not meant for me.”

Keiji stayed quiet. His gaze was heavy enough to rope Osamu’s own. When Osamu looked up, Keiji’s eyes were dark–stark amongst the light blooming flowers.

“Yer mother is askin’ for ya,” Osamu said–because he was glutinous and hungry and craving for Keiji but he was also a coward.

“What for?” Keiji questioned instead of pushing–because they’ve had that unspoken conversation before.

“The representatives of Nekoma arrived. She wishes to introduce ya to their prince.”

Keiji looked at the position of the sun in the sky. “Already?”

The kingdom of Nekoma, though quite small in comparison to Fukurodani, was everything the Fukurodani court wished for–skill, advantageous position in relation to the other kingdom, and an alliance with Karasuno. That alliance was one most of the other kingdoms would almost kill for.

And the king had a son who was a year older than Keiji.

Unknown to the queen, Osamu had met the son–Kuroo Tetsurou–more than a year ago. It slipped from the Nekoma prince’s mouth that he had no intention of marrying anyone other than a knight of Shiratorizawa. Since then though, Keiji and Osamu both had been in conversation by way of letters sent from crows, with the prince.

“He’s not been able to renegotiate,” Keiji whispered to the sky. His eyebrows were pinched, growing tighter the more he thought. Osamu could practically read his thoughts already, and their rushing across his eyes.

_I should have done more. I should have contacted Semi. I should have staged_ somethin–

The book Keiji had been reading slipped from his lap and landed on the ground with a _thwack._

Osamu, steps crunching the dirt, stepped towards the tree. He took the book and then scaled the tree until he was on the same branch as Keiji.

“I’m not marrying a soul,” Keiji said, firm, “if that soul isn’t yours.”

Pink blossoms swayed around them. Osamu’s chest clenched until he thought it was going to collapse on his heart. Looking at Keiji’s resolute expression–he knew he was right. He wouldn’t want him to be wrong.

Not about this–because Keiji, the sacrosanct dawn of spring, loved him back with everything in his body to the tiniest fingernail. 

With a brush of Keiji’s fingers across his cheek, he was drawn in so they shared more than a branch on a tree–they shared the breath on their lips.

And Keiji’s lips tasted like the multiple cups of tea he’d had since he’d woken up. They were chapped, and because Osamu allowed himself this–this one space–he fell, and lost himself in the curve and movement of those lips on his own. Keiji’s hands cupped his face, nosed at his nose, tugged gently at the hair on the back of his head.

Osamu held them steady with a hand on the tree trunk but wished nothing more than to use his hands to shed them both of coats and crowns and authority if only to sit and hold hands. 

He sighed, shivered, when Keiji kissed down from his face to his neck. He kissed on the sensitive skin until Osamu was sure it would bruise.

Unlike Keiji, with a kingdom’s eyes on him, Osamu would not have to worry about marred coloring on his neck.

Osamu didn’t ever want to let go of this.

He couldn’t let go of this.

With his other hand he gripped Keiji’s hip, settled himself so he straddled the branch, and his foot hooked onto a lower branch. He tugged himself until Keiji’s own legs lapped over his, with one locking around his hips and back.

“Tell me,” Keiji whispered into his skin, “tell me we’ll figure this out?”

Hand tighter, grappling at Keiji’s shirt, he nodded. He breathed in Keiji’s skin, his hair, his existence–

“Yes, my prince.”

Everything was not alright, and Keiji would still need to step from the tree and ride to the castle to officially meet the Nekoma prince–but Keiji and his determination were sure enough to still themselves like a root into Osamu.

Later, after they’d sit for longer than Osamu promised the queen, he would take Keiji’s hand and lead him from the yoshino. Keiji would wrap his fingers around Osamu’s own, tips to tip–palm to palm. 

In the field of their own they would walk hand in hand.

Osamu would whisper against Keiji’s palm _I love you_ as he lifted him to his horse.

Keiji’s fingers would brush against Osamu’s cheek, flit across his hair, and I _love you_ knitted into the fabric of his movements.

Still, amongst the wild alyssums they would walk as if in their own paradise, and dream of lovers dancing on their own stage and spring dawning.

  
  


* * *

  
  


_I'm a lit-up flower that gives warmth to the garden of your life_

_Please don't leave me as I have the courage to love you back_

**Author's Note:**

> [twitter](https://twitter.com/spacedaichi)
> 
> i think i'd eventually want to do a prequel and a sequel of sorts for this and do more worldbuilding?? i hope y'all still enjoyed though despite its shortness.
> 
> kudos and comments always, always, welcome!! <3


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